


Deliver Me from Sin

by chemicalburnfromthespiralperm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Preseries, Stanford Era, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm/pseuds/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who was she?  They all ask the same question.  Who was she?  Who was the girl that ruined you for other women?  Had to be a girl to put that kinda pain on your face, kid.  But it wasn't a girl.  It was my brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliver Me from Sin

"Who was she?"

They all ask the same question.  Who was she? Who was the girl that ruined you for other women?  Had to be a girl to put that kinda pain on your face, kid.

But it wasn't a girl.

It was my brother.

I sigh.  There's whiskey in my glass but I've not touched it since the barkeep slapped it in front of me.  Guy next to me smells like week old cigarettes, urinal cakes and candy.  It's nauseating, and his breath is worse when he leans in and croons at me, "Who was she?"

Who was she?  If he were a she and also not my brother this would be an easier question to answer.

I don't smoke, but the cigarette between my fingers hangs their easily, and the smoke feels more like home than the oxygen does, and it hurts going down less than my brother does.

"He left."

"You some kinda faggot?"

"Some kind." I shrug.  Been called worse by my own dad.

"Well, love hurts.  I suppose it ain't any easier for faggots."  

I snort.  This guy... don't know who he is but I can smell Viet Nam on him.  Smells like my dad, even the way he sits reminds me of my dad and I can't shake the feeling that there's something familiar about this guy.  I hate him on principal alone because I can't hate my dad.  He didn't drive my brother to the Amtrak station.

 The guy grabs his beer and takes a swig, and his lips glimmer in the ugly bar lighting, slick with spit and warm Bud, but I suppose that every deserves a few fleeting moments of beauty.

"He left?"

"He left. To Stanford."

He really left.  He left, and I drove him to it.  Drove him straight to the train station.  Put the money in his hand to buy a ticket, and I can't be mad at him because this is what I wanted.  I paid for the college applications and I paid for the postage and I lied to dad about him being sick so he could do his homework instead of going on hunts because this isn't the life I wanted for him...

"You just...  let 'im leave?"

"Didn't let him leave.  You don't tell that kid what to do.  He gets these crazy ideas in his head...  'I want a better life, I want out, I want normal.'"  I sigh again, scrub a hand over my tired face and grimace when my stubble catches on the parts of my hands that haven't been turned to callouses.  "Never understood that normal just don't happen for people like us.  Normal ain't ever an option."

Guy grunts.  "He a kid?  Older than you?"

Shake my head.  "Younger.  Four years.  Turned 18 two weeks ago.  Guess when he said he wanted out he really meant it."

Guy shakes his head, too, like it's a pity I've lost someone, like he knows how it feels.  Everyone has the story of their first great love, but what do you do when it's your brother and it's been and will always be your only great love?  I know it's sick and I know it's wrong.  I know the way my dad looks at us, like he knows but just the thought of it makes him so sick he can't look at us anymore.  I think he was happy to see my brother leave, because that means he didn't have to pretend not to hear us anymore.

"You love him, you go after him."

I've had too much of this.  I slap a twenty on the bar and motion to the bartender that my drink and this guy's have been taken care of.  Everything in this state reminds me of Sam.  Even the people I've never seen before remind me of Sam.  They all have dimples or they all have brown hair or green eyes or they look at me like Sam used to look at me--like I was the whole world.

His whole world's in California, now, and the only thing I can hope for is that he calls...  He'll call me and tell me he got in okay, that the dorms are too small and the guy smells worse than I do but there's a smile in his voice because he sounds happy.  It's going to break my heart hearing him talk about how happy he is now when I'm so miserable I can't even get out of bed without cutting something open or ripping something apart, because he's in California and I'll always be stuck in this car.


End file.
